


Black is the Color of my True Love's Hair

by urwelcome_forthis



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, history au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 03:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21331501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urwelcome_forthis/pseuds/urwelcome_forthis
Summary: Lena Luthor's family has died during the War, leaving her with an inheritance and a freedom to live as she wishes. She makes a life of her own in a small Vermont town, helping the local midwife and community. Kara Danvers, a roving school teacher comes to visit her friend Lucy, and in their meeting, Kara and Lena find something neither could have ever imagined.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Black is the Color of my True Love's Hair

**Author's Note:**

> There's a bending of historical accuracy in this to fit my narrative needs, but I try and keep a good chunk accurate. (Not the language though, I actually want people to read this.) 
> 
> If you are interested in the source material I used for research on Early American life, midwifery, and Charity Bryant and Sylvia Drake a real life early American queer couple - I will provide titles and authors at the end of the chapter. 
> 
> The title of this fic comes from a Southern Appalachian version of an 18th century English song
> 
> Fine me on tumblr @urwelcomeforthis

"If I were permitted to draw aside the veil of private life, I would briefly give you the singular, and to me most interesting history of two maiden ladies who dwell in this valley. I would tell you how, in their youthful days, they took each other as companions for life, and how this union, no less sacred to them than the tie of marriage, has subsisted, in uninterrupted harmony, for forty years." -_William Cullen Bryant, New-York Evening Post, 1843_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lena Luthor enjoyed the quiet of the countryside more than she had ever enjoyed anything in her entire life thus far. In the mornings she would sit at her kitchen table, her windows open and eyes closed as she listened to the sounds of the birds singing their songs and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees around her. 

Her second favorite part of the small rural town she lived in was the smell. It was fresh and clean compared to the bustling streets of Boston. The foulest thing that drifted in the air was the smell of animal manure and even that was a respite from the hell she had experienced during the Siege and the years of the War. 

She was lucky, she knew, to still be standing, to have the home she now lived in and the life she so cherished every single day. 

So many others she knew hadn’t been so lucky. 

Her parents – cruel as they may have been – had died a year into the war, as they tried to flee Boston for the British held Caribbean Islands where they had a home. The elderly did not travel well during times of war, but their loyalism to the Crown had all but forced their hand. 

Lena’s loyalism to the patriotic cause (first against taxation and the lack of representation in Parliament and later – once it seemed more than a mere dream – for true Independence) had been reason enough for them to leave her behind. 

Alexander’s choice to fight for the Revolutionary Cause had been yet another source of ire for the Luthor parents. Lena, on the other hand, had been so _so_ very proud of her older brother. She still is, knowing that he died for what he believed in, what she believed in. It was because of his bravery the new nation existed. 

It was because of his death that she was now one of the richest women in said new nation. 

If they had lived in England, where her father was from, she was be destitute, searching hopelessly for a husband she would (could) never love in order to stay afloat and comfortable. However, here, in this new nation, she as the sole heir and only remaining Luthor not six times removed, was able to inherit the mad wealth her family had accumulated over centuries. 

There had been those who grumbled – after all, Lena was unmarried and at 19 with no suitors’ people believed she was unable to handle the fortune, the business. Mr. Jones, the lawyer her brother had worked with, ensured she received all she was due. 

Her first order of business had been to shut down Luthor Trading Company. She was no fool, she knew her father had most likely been involved in more than the Tea and goods trade and she knew the best way to ensure it ceased on her end was to end it all together. So, she did. 

Lex would have been proud, she thinks. 

Her next move was physical, and permanent. She could no longer walk the battle-scarred streets of Boston without hearing the screams of the bombardments, smell the reek of the dead, the unwashed, the sick. 

So, she had her carriages packed and moved to a small rural town in Vermont. She had a nice house built – spacious, larger than most in the small hamlet, but far enough out that no one seemed to mind her presence. 

She found herself pulled into the small community she had moved into. She made friends with Lucy Lane, a local girl who introduced her to the local midwife, Rhea Matthews, who took Lena under her wing. 

She employed local girls to help her in her weaving, being sure to give the extra cloth she didn’t need to families around the town. 

She employed James Olsen and Mike Matthews, Rhea’s son, to help her grow cotton and shear the sheep of their wool. She paid for game and traded with neighbors for produce and other goods. She kept a small garden, some cows and other livestock, and picked apples from the small orchard she maintained. 

The small-town square offered some things, for which she was glad, and she sometimes sent for things in Boston – books, household amenities, stores of food when she felt she hadn’t stored enough. 

It was so vastly different from the life she had lived in Boston, where goods and amenities were so readily available at shops for purchase, but Lena found she liked this life better. Family was at its center, the community acting as one large, bickering and loving unit and she found she was accepted easily and readily in the small town. 

While on calls with Rhea she would be teased by the women who gathered in the home to help with the birthing process, all asking her some variant of when she would be married, or if Mike had caught her eye. She would blush and tip her eyes down to the ground and murmur that no, while Mike was surely a good man, he wasn’t for her. 

Rhea would always smile softly at her with knowing eyes, and joke that Lena was at 20 a dedicated spinster who enjoyed being free. All the women would cluck and sigh wistfully at the idea and leave her be. 

After a year in her new home, Lena felt settled, and for the first time perhaps in her life, content. If her house was sometimes too quiet when she was home alone at night eating the dinner she had prepared herself, that was just a small price to pay for the freedom she had been afforded. Not many women could say the same. 

~~~~~~~~~

It was one night in December when she heard Mike knocking at her door. Wrapping a shawl around herself and lighting a candle, she hurried and threw it open.

“Lena, my mother needs your assistance. There’s been word sent from the Brown homestead – Mrs. Brown has begun labor.” Mike was breathing heavy, having run the distance from the Matthews home to Lena’s own. 

“Mike, will you ready the carriage and horses while I change and grab my supplies? It will be quicker for your mother and I to take it to the river rather than the walk.” 

Mike nodded and took off in the direction of the barn, and Lena hurried herself as she changed into long stockings, shoes and a heavy dress and overcoat. She grabbed blankets for the trip in the cold, a muffler for her hands, and the supplies she had for births. 

By the time Mike was knocking on her door again she was ready. She put the fire out the best she could, blew out the candle and headed out the door. 

She could see her breath in the dangerously cold night air, as Mike affixed a lantern to the front of the carriage. 

“Mike, will you be coming with us to the Browns?” She thought to ask as they made their way down the icy, snow covered streets. 

He nodded. 

“You’ll need me – the river is too icy for you two to canoe alone. I’ll be sure to get you both across safely.” He told her, calm confidence in his voice. 

“That makes me feel better.” She told him honestly, and in the dim glow of the lamps she saw him grin. 

“Have you spoken to Lucy as of late?” He asked as the dark country side around them sped by, Lena’s nose turning more and more red as they made their way. 

“Not since last week I’m afraid.” Lena answered; glad Mike kept up this easy conversation to keep her from focusing too much on how cold she was. 

“She has a friend coming to town. Her sister Lois is married to the woman’s cousin, Clark. It will be fun to have a new person here, for however long she stays.” Mike continued, his eyes taking on the dreamy look they often did when he was imagining whatever scenarios he liked to conjure up about adventure and change. 

“Well hopefully this woman is kindlier than the last friend of Lucy’s that visited.” Lena offered and Mike snickered. 

The last friend Lucy had invited to stay for an extended period – Kate had been her name – had been surly and fairly unfriendly to everyone but Lucy. Lena hadn’t missed her too greatly when she left. 

“A nicer friend would be welcomed indeed.” Mike finally replied, and as they both saw the familiar oak that warned of the turn to the Matthew house, they quieted. 

Once the carriage was pulled up in front of the white slat home, Rhea was bustling out the front door to join them, her own kit and supplies in hand. 

“That was a fast journey. I’m glad for it – we will need to make haste across the river in case Mrs. Brown is one who has a fast labor.” Rhea told Lena as she heaved herself into the carriage. Lena nodded but remained quiet as she readied herself for the long night and day ahead. 

At the river they left the carriage with James who was waiting on them, and climbed into a canoe, Mike seated at the back with the oars. The crossing was slow due to the ice, and dangerous as any river crossing could be. 

Lena was always sure to say a silent prayer whenever they reached the other bank, no matter what time of year. She had seen a horse drown in this river upon her arrival in town a year ago – and it was not a fate she wished for herself or her companions. 

Once on the other side of the river, Mike escorted the two women to the Brown home, all three fighting against the bitter cold and the wind. 

Rhea knocked on the wooden door once they arrived, and the it flung open quickly. 

“Mrs. Matthews, we are so glad you are here.” A young girl of thirteen greeted Rhea before she nodded at Mike and Lena. 

“Thank you, dear Clara. Miss. Luthor here is my assistance in these matters, and this is my son, Mike. He will be taking his leave of us now.” Rhea turned to Mike and patted his cheek affectionately before stepping into the warm, small home. Lena gave him a small smile that he easily returned before following suit. 

Once the door had closed behind them, Lena began to unwrap the scarf around her neck, and removed the heavy overcoat she wore over her dress. She then joined Rhea by the mantle, as they worked in tandem to ready their supplies and heat some water. Rhea checked on Mrs. Brown, who was surrounded by her closest female neighbors and family. 

Lena sat down and drew a deep breath as she steadied herself against the warmth of the hearth. 

It became a waiting game after that. 

Rhea and Lena unfurled the blankets they had brought with them to create a pallet on the floor and settled in for the night. As they lay by the crackling fire, Lena let her mind wander to what Mike had told her earlier in the night. 

Before moving to her new home, Lena had never had many friends. She had her governess and her tutors, and those who moved in the same social circles, but she and Lex had always felt slightly outcast from those people due to their differing ideals. 

Lucy Lane, however, seemed to never run out of friends. She often had a new letter from some correspondent, almost always a woman who she had once met when she had spent the War traveling the countryside helping to tend to the wounded. 

In such a small rural town, it was always exciting when a new person came to stay for an extended period. There were dinners and walks to be had, games to play and readings to attend as they all put their best foot forward to entertain Lucy’s new guest. 

Katherine Kane had been standoffish, that was to be sure, but she had also been a natural beauty who told quiet stories of her time as a soldier in the continental army. In her tales she had cut her hair, bound her breasts and taken the place of her fallen father in a militia a few towns over, desperate to see the action. 

It had fascinated Lena, to hear how Kate had embodied the spirit of a man, fooling even those men around her until the end of the war when she was discharged and sent home. She still dressed like a man, something Lucy had told Lena made life somewhat dangerous for Kate in some towns and cities, but in Lena’s mind Kate had seemed to embody what it meant to be brave. 

She wondered what the new arrival would be like. She hoped the mysterious woman would be as interesting as Kate. A small part of her hoped she would be as beautiful as well. 

She fell asleep, thinking as she often did, of a faceless woman with soft pink lips and curves hidden beneath a dress.

**Author's Note:**

> Research Sources: 
> 
> Everyday Life in Early America - David Freeman Hawke
> 
> A Midwife's Tale; The Life of Martha Ballard Based on Her Diary, 1785-1812 - Laurel Thatcher Ulrich 
> 
> Charity & Sylvia; A Same Sex Marriage in Early America - Rachel Hope Cleves 
> 
> (also just my knowledge from my past life as an early american historian is being thrown around in here lol) 
> 
> the song the title is from can be found here: http://www.contemplator.com/america/blackhair.html


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